Hunger Games

At the Bent Brick, the food is serious. Nothing else is.

Scott Dolich and Will Preisch’s new food-obsessed tavern,
the Bent Brick, doesn’t mince words. You might be given the phrase
“shrimp, corn, cherry tomatoes, young coriander” ($14) and end up with a
tongue-in-cheek riff on bar menu popcorn shrimp that includes
everything from a Johnny cake and pickled corn to actual popcorn and
prawn butter. The pork in “pork, carrots, root beer glaze, almond
yogurt” ($19) comes both as thinly sliced loin and as a crispy-moist
brisket, underneath a pile of fresh carrot shavings and on top of a
carrot-based riff on those glutinous taro cakes you get at dim sum. And
we haven’t even gotten to the “tomato” in the “smoked albacore” dish
yet.

In other words, your
meal will be somewhat confusing, artfully composed and more often than
not very, very tasty. Here’s the deal: This locally sourced “bar food”
will unsettle straightforward eaters. Those who expect a familiar hunk
of cow with a side of spuds when they order “beef, smoke, onions,
potato” ($20) may be taken aback by the sleek modern plate they get,
which reimagines the homey classic as a spectacular symphony of onion
that places charred and pickled cipollinis and tiny chive flowers atop a
long slick of creamy onion puree (the beef gets second-fiddle treatment
as a braised chuck and flatiron alongside a lone fingerling potato).

These are geeky
plates for adventurous food lovers—the flavors may be familiar but the
preparations are not; each inventive plate plays pinball in your mouth
with their combos of crunchy, crumbly, moist and creamy textures.
Partisans of Dolich’s other local restaurant, Park Kitchen, are somewhat
used to this kind of thing. But the Bent Brick owner is quick to give
credit for the tavern’s menu to executive chef Preisch, who was sous
chef at PK before he started pickling eggs and sea beans (house pickle
plate, $4) and shaving frozen and dried mussels in Bent’s kitchen.

Ordering blindly
becomes more fun after downing a few of Bent Brick’s exceedingly strong
$8 cocktails (“that’s just a big ’ol glass of booze” drawled a server as
he handed me my Path To Victory, a viscous concoction of bourbon and
bitter, herby Chinato cut with vinegar and gingersnap). The spot is
lucky to have Adam Robinson behind its long, curved steel bar, making
heady elixirs flush with herbs and verjus. There’s an excellent
selection of Northwest wines on tap, nearly all available in half
carafes for less than $16, and $4 glasses of Upright and Double Mountain
brews among others.

Properly lubricated
you can finally tear your eyes away from deciphering the contents of
your plate to consider the spot’s oddball
English-walled-garden-meets-industrial-loft space, which is often filled
with a mix of devoted foodies, young men in jorts and groups of Pearl
District ladies with toned arms and highlighted hair. The staff blast
“Brick House” and “Kung Fu Fighting” during early dinner service and
dispatch with the food warnings on the menu for: “Multnomah County
Health Department requires us to tell you that eating raw and/or
undercooked items may make you poop or barf.” So the food is serious;
nothing much else is.

The best thing I’ve
eaten so far is that very fishy smoked albacore ($13), which lies atop a
trio of juicy green, yellow and red heirloom tomatoes all sprinkled
with those crunchy, salty mussel chips. It’s swimming in a delicate
shellfish broth studded with bits of purple seaweed and impossibly sweet
little raisinated, candied tomatoes. It tastes like a caprese salad
that went skinny-dipping in the Mediterranean. There’s also a creamy,
tart buttermilk pudding ($8) served with house-made Graham cracker
crumbles and icy blueberry sorbet that vies for the title of best
pudding on earth. Not everything works: there’s bland kale noodles ($15)
and jokey hazelnut “baked beans” ($5) that just make you crave the real
thing. Then again, for $48 a person, you can simply eat little bites of
every single dish on the menu. The Bent Brick is game if you are.